Rosh Chodesh Cheshvan, which is also referred to as “MarCheshvan,” was on Tuesday and Wednesday this week.
In conversation with a friend, I found out that there are actually a couple of different reasons for this nickname.
In my Jewish education, I had learned that the prefix “Mar” was from the Hebrew word for “bitter” (like the “Maror” that we eat on Pesach to recall the bitterness of slavery in Egypt). It is applied to Cheshvan because, unlike the month of Tishrei before it and the month of Kislev that follows it, Cheshvan contains no Jewish holidays. As a result, either we – the Jewish people – or the month itself, are a bit more bitter than (in) those other months.
But my friend shared with me the explanation that he had learned in his Jewish education.
He had been taught that the word “Mar” is from the Hebrew word for “Mister” (like, “Hashchunah shel Mar Rogers” the Hebrew version of Mr. Roger’s Nieghborhood). It is applied to Cheshvan as a title of respect because, unlike the month of Tishrei before it and the month of Kislev that follows it, Cheshvan contains no Jewish holidays. As a result, the Jewish tradition calls it “Mar”, a different honor, that gives it respect and causes us to make note of it.
As an educator, I really like the second explanation more than the first.
Because when I imagine Cheshvan as a student in School A, he is a student who has experienced a setback and is lacking in confidence. When teachers and students see this they call him “MarCheshvan” – Bitter Cheshvan – a further knock on his confidence. As he begins to believe that he is bitter he loses all hope of experiencing joy and embraces this role (which, of course, does not make for a pleasant academic experience).
But in School B, I imagine Cheshvan as a student who has experienced a setback and is lacking in confidence. When teachers and students see this they call him “MarCheshvan” – Mr. Cheshvan – as a way of boosting his confidence. As he begins to believe that he is a “Mister” he experiences a small joy and embraces it (which, of course, makes for a more pleasant academic experience).
I am proud to be the principal of School B where faculty and students are so thoughtful and caring toward one another, and where students are encouraged to rise to the occasion and achieve their greatest potential.
In conversation with a friend, I found out that there are actually a couple of different reasons for this nickname.
In my Jewish education, I had learned that the prefix “Mar” was from the Hebrew word for “bitter” (like the “Maror” that we eat on Pesach to recall the bitterness of slavery in Egypt). It is applied to Cheshvan because, unlike the month of Tishrei before it and the month of Kislev that follows it, Cheshvan contains no Jewish holidays. As a result, either we – the Jewish people – or the month itself, are a bit more bitter than (in) those other months.
But my friend shared with me the explanation that he had learned in his Jewish education.
He had been taught that the word “Mar” is from the Hebrew word for “Mister” (like, “Hashchunah shel Mar Rogers” the Hebrew version of Mr. Roger’s Nieghborhood). It is applied to Cheshvan as a title of respect because, unlike the month of Tishrei before it and the month of Kislev that follows it, Cheshvan contains no Jewish holidays. As a result, the Jewish tradition calls it “Mar”, a different honor, that gives it respect and causes us to make note of it.
As an educator, I really like the second explanation more than the first.
Because when I imagine Cheshvan as a student in School A, he is a student who has experienced a setback and is lacking in confidence. When teachers and students see this they call him “MarCheshvan” – Bitter Cheshvan – a further knock on his confidence. As he begins to believe that he is bitter he loses all hope of experiencing joy and embraces this role (which, of course, does not make for a pleasant academic experience).
But in School B, I imagine Cheshvan as a student who has experienced a setback and is lacking in confidence. When teachers and students see this they call him “MarCheshvan” – Mr. Cheshvan – as a way of boosting his confidence. As he begins to believe that he is a “Mister” he experiences a small joy and embraces it (which, of course, makes for a more pleasant academic experience).
I am proud to be the principal of School B where faculty and students are so thoughtful and caring toward one another, and where students are encouraged to rise to the occasion and achieve their greatest potential.
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